WeTried Translations
Translator: Goku
Editor: Sty
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ The War Hero in the NTR Game Wants to Die ◈
Chapter 005
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Fading Dream (4)
Riehen Gryan does not deserve to bear the name Gryan.
Because he's trash without a shred of talent, and a useless human being with no ability whatsoever.
Still, I thought of him as family.
As for an older brother, well.
I was going to say, 'I'm glad you came back alive,' just that one thing.
Because even if he was a pathetic and contemptible man, I never wished for him to die.
But you shouldn't offer warm words to someone undeserving.
At least, not in House Gryan.
No matter how handsome he is, or what talents he possesses, if he cannot properly wield a sword, he is disqualified as a Gryan.
...The older brother of my childhood wasn't this kind of trash.
That's a story from before his lack of talent with the sword became apparent.
Because he was the kind of person who would casually tell me he was happy I was his younger sister.
Someone who would find and bring me the songs our mother, whom I'd never met, loved, and the snacks she enjoyed.
He was a person who clearly didn't suit the sword.
To the point where one wondered how such a person was born into the Gryan Ducal House.
He must have resembled Mother. They say there was no one as kind as her in the world.
To me, my older brother was that kind of person.
So, if only he had just a tiny bit of talent, he wouldn't have fallen this far.
And I wouldn't have had to treat my older brother like this.
Around the age of ten, there was an occasion where I lightly crossed swords with my older brother.
I won too easily.
My older brother couldn't properly parry and fell backward, dropping the sword he held.
I still can't forget the face that looked up at me with trembling eyes as he sat slumped on the floor.
After the sparring, Father said.
That such a person was not a Gryan.
He said the Gryan Ducal House was a family that produced Sword Saints for generations, and those without ability were not to be respected.
Just a little. If only he had a little more talent...
Still, because he was family, I didn't want him to be pointed at by others, so I didn't suggest to Father that he be expelled.
Because he was family, even if he snuck out of the mansion to hang out with commoners instead of training with his sword, or crawled into the Academy to tarnish the family name with his inadequate skills.
And I was the one who raised an objection when Father suggested sending my older brother to the front lines.
For me to think of him this way.
For me to be this considerate.
To me, like this... how dare someone like you utter such words to me?
How can you call me an orphan?
If I'm an orphan, you're an orphan too, older brother.
You're the one who never received any love from Father, aren't you?
Even if you had Mother's love, you never received Father's recognition, did you? Because you're trash!
I'm different. I'm not like you, older brother. Father is always pleased with me.
Our talents are different from the start.
You, a failure who has never properly accomplished anything, how would someone like you know what Mother, whom I have never even met, would be like to me?
Older brother, you shouldn't say such things to me.
I can hurt you, but you can't hurt me.
Because you're an undeserving worm. But still, because you're my older brother, I don't just get rid of you.
You should be thanking me, actually.
Because even if I become the head of the family someday, I won't cast someone like you aside.
Because in this world, I'm the only one who would bother to seek you out and talk to someone like you.
That commoner girl also discarded someone like you long ago, and that Roseline woman, as soon as she heard you were being sent to the front lines, broke off the engagement without even considering you might return alive, didn't she?
But why.
Why, as soon as you returned, did you hole yourself up in your room, steeped in alcohol without a single word of greeting?
Why don't you wield a sword, and why aren't you curious about anything?
Like someone who's about to die any moment.
Why do you hurt me?
Damn it, why should I hurt this much over a single word uttered by someone like you?
It's not my older brother who would utter such words to me.
It can't be my older brother. If that's the case, you should have just died and come back.
No, just die. If you just drop dead, you won't be able to utter such painful words again, will you?
I wanted to get rid of that mouth, that filthy mouth, so I raised my sword.
Then, a blurry image began to surface before my eyes.
As hazy as in a dream.
The first thing that caught my eye was a red, bloody mass, with no trace of ever having been a person.
I realized it instinctively. It was my older brother.
I gathered the chunks of flesh scattered in the room with both hands and squeezed them tightly.
But no matter how much I squeezed, he didn't return to being my older brother.
Just as the sight of me kneading the red masses began to blur, my vision brightened, and the tip of a wooden sword dug into my solar plexus.
I couldn't breathe.
I stayed huddled on the floor for a long time.
Not wanting to recall what I had just seen, I closed my eyes tightly without steadying my breath.
I couldn't possibly have killed my older brother.
And I couldn't possibly have dreamt such a thing.
* * *
Riehen Gryan had never truly lived.
It was always like that.
He merely breathed, according to someone else's mood.
He always cowered in a way that made him easy to mock in front of people.
The only time Riehen could be Riehen was in front of that slut who shamelessly spread her legs for another man because he seemed better.
She was a woman perfectly suited for a pathetic idiot like him.
She wanted to be an adventurer?
Bullshit.
It's an adventurer in name only; it's no different from being a handyman or an errand boy, a bottom-tier job even for a man.
And certainly not something a woman should do.
That man who said he'd take her to the capital wouldn't have done it out of pure goodwill.
Even if he babbled about getting her into a guild or whatever, she's not so naive as to not know what that meant.
By now, she's probably moaning under that man, collecting her payment.
Or she's already moved on to a more respectable guy.
Then suddenly, the face laughing merrily by the waterfront comes to mind.
Offering chocolate, saying her mom told her to take care of pitiful kids like me.
That face that always called me Riehen, not Gryan.
Why, then, that woman who, as soon as a seemingly decent man appeared, immediately went to spread her legs without a second thought...?
Even after tearing her down for so long, that face won't easily disappear from my mind.
Should I go find her, after all?
If I go and make her love me... maybe I can escape from here too.
I realized I was no different from that idiot.
Because as soon as I heard talk of the Academy or the capital, the first face that came to mind was hers.
There must be other heroines, after all.
From some point, I started thinking like Riehen, acting like Riehen.
And there's only one place Riehen, not Gryan, can go.
That waterfront where Arin would bring snacks and sit beside him.
However, the girl who used to bring snacks had long since disappeared.
Suddenly wondering if that bakery was still there, I moved my feet towards the village.
A few guards who recognized me started to approach, but a man who seemed to be their captain waved them off.
He just let out a single phrase: "Don't cause any trouble."
As I pushed open the bakery door, the owner startled when she saw me.
"Oh my… you, you're that child…?"
The owner knew I was the son of some high-ranking person.
However, she didn't know I was a Gryan by blood.
A child of the Gryan family wouldn't have crawled down to a commoner village to associate with a girl, and I had never told her either.
"Have you come looking for Arin?"
I tried to answer, but no sound came from my throat.
"Arin… she left for the capital half a year ago. She hasn't been sending many letters lately… by any chance, have you heard anything?"
I shook my head silently.
Perhaps because I'd been drinking alcohol for days on end, my mouth was parched.
"…Anyway, I don't know what happened to you, but come in and take some food."
I couldn't say it's okay, and raised my hand to decline, but the owner placed a few large breads and a bottle of milk in a bag and handed it to me.
I couldn't for the life of me remember when someone last gave me something without expecting anything in return.
Taking the bag, I rummaged through my pocket and pulled out whatever banknotes I could find.
As she adamantly refused to take them, I just left them on the counter and walked out.
I sat by the waterfront, blankly gazing at the flowing water.
I moistened my mouth with milk and crammed down the bread.
How long was I doing that? The sound of horse hooves approached slowly from behind and then stopped.
"…What's going to change by waiting here for someone who won't even come?"
I knew who it was without even turning around.
The rustle of someone dismounting from a horse.
The crunch of shoes stepping on the dirt ground.
"I'm not waiting."
"…Then what?"
"It's just that I have nowhere else to be."
"......Father is calling for you. Get up. If you don't come willingly, I'll drag you by force."
It seemed she was upset about being jabbed in the solar plexus.
The edge of her voice was thinly cracked.
"Don't think for a second I'll let myself be easily taken again like just now."
I glanced back and Rione was standing there.
Her eyes were slightly red-rimmed, and faint shadows sat beneath them.
It was a face that had cried for a long time.
Being dragged around like this and that had become familiar.
I was dragged to a battlefield on the very first day, so being dragged to the mansion is nothing.
I silently got up from my spot.
Rione didn't add any more words and turned her horse around, and I walked after her.
The sound of hooves crushing dirt, and occasionally, the cry of a bird from somewhere.
Not a single word was exchanged between us.
We walked that path until we reached the mansion.
When we arrived in front of the office, the butler standing guard at the door lightly knocked.
"I have brought Young Master. Shall I let him in?"
A short reply flowed from within.
It was a command to let him in.
As soon as I pushed the door open and entered, the head of the family beyond the desk furrowed his brow.
"You look a mess. A person of the Gryan family..."
"Didn't you say you had no son like me?"
"......"
The family head remained silent for a long time.
The light filtering through the window stretched out long across the desk.
The dust drifted slowly along the beam of light.
Finally, the family head opened his mouth.
"It's turned out strangely. For you have become useful, after all."
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